


Roll With It

by KrokoRobin, Pandir



Category: Collateral (2004)
Genre: Hostage Situations, M/M, Physical Contact Issues, Vincent giving head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 16:05:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1611140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrokoRobin/pseuds/KrokoRobin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandir/pseuds/Pandir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What was that about ‘I Ching’…?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roll With It

**Author's Note:**

> Co-written together with the amazing Calvindile. Together we are this entire fandom haha.

"What was that about ‘I Ching’…?", Max murmured, his lips quirking into a slight smirk.

Vincent was surprised, he had to admit. Not by the sudden contact, but maybe the fierceness— the fingers gripping his collar and rumpling the fabric, the wall against his back. But then again, this was not the first time Max had surprised him.

"Why are you wasting time talking, then?", Vincent replied brusquely. He pulled him closer to crush their mouths together again, so they became hands digging into fabric and hair, breathless gasps and crude noises. Max didn’t remember when he had bitten down so hard on Vincent’s lips until he tasted the metallic tang of blood on his tongue and heard the other’s indignant snarl.

Didn’t matter.

The first impulse Vincent had was to bite back, hard, but that would’ve been petty, so he just let his teeth graze the other’s bottom lip— soft, not surprising, but notably so— and there were not many thoughts to be had when all was wet mouths and hot gasped breaths. No thoughts but one, actually, and he grabbed Max’s neck hard to get enough room to breathe.  
"Let’s take this somewhere else," he prompted, voice not as clear as it could’ve been, but his wry smile in place.

Max stopped in his tracks, and in the blink of an eye he realized his own awkwardness. He felt like a deer in the headlights again— a feeling that Vincent was remarkably good at invoking. He violently pushed the thought into the back of his mind, cleared his throat, and said with as much emphasis as he could: “You are not coming anywhere near my place.”

At this, Vincent let out a short laugh. There he was again, the Max he knew better: ridiculous and not very reasonable.

"What does it matter? Who cares about your place?" He could still faintly taste blood on his lips. It occurred to him that he was not entirely sure how reasonable he himself could claim to be right now. He quickly decided he didn’t care. "Really, Max? First, you’re all over me, then you scramble backwards at the thought of me seeing your dirty underwear?"

“I was all over you, huh?” Max huffed, caught between the need to get as much distance between himself and Vincent as possible— or at least letting go of his jacket and taking a step back— and just making him shut up, he still hesitated. Eventually, he calmly opened the first button of Vincent’s shirt without further words. His eyes shot up to meet the other man’s, searching them for a reaction.

It was impossible not to meet Max’s look with raised eyebrows. Still, Vincent leaned back, letting the back of his head rest against the white wall, not breaking their eye contact.

"Didn’t take you for the restroom kind of guy, but suit yourself…", he said, daring him to go through with what was probably a bluff. They were on display here and Max knew that. Max would care about that, wouldn’t he? Well, there was one way to find out, and Vincent was eager to know.

There had been flings in Max’ life, though getting it on in a restroom was something he had so far been guiltless of. However, Vincent’s cockily raised eyebrows were enough to get his pulse racing and heat rising up in his guts again. He’d make that man eat his words. Images emerged in his mind: Vincent on his knees, his mouth decidedly too busy for any more wisecracking.

Determination that was and wasn’t quite his own took hold of him again, and without really knowing what he was doing, trying his best to keep up the most aloof expression he could manage, he nodded his head downwards, and, as Vincent didn’t react, yanked him down by his jacket.

It was violent, yet sloppily executed pull, easy to counter. Vincent’s reflexes kicked in immediately as he stumbled forward and held onto Max’s arm, ready to use the momentum against him. He could’ve had him on the floor within seconds. _Could_ have.

Instead, he let himself drop on one knee, Max’s lower arm still in an iron grip, and looked up. There was a sharpness about Max that hadn’t been there before. A good act, maybe. Intriguing, in any case, but also bound to crumble.

"Next time, just ask nicely", he said, making sure that Max understood he disapproved of his lack of manners— not to mention being pushed to a not -too- hygienic restroom floor. He sighed, let the jacket slip from his shoulders, threw it over the nearby sink, and settled with both knees on the floor. He looked up again. 

"Well, lose your pants. I don’t have all night." He pointedly let his eyes flicker from Max’s crotch to his face.

Well, that had gone almost a bit too well. Desperately attempting to hide his clumsiness, Max fumbled with his pants, undoing the button and frantically resisting the urge to throw the door a wary glance.

He was back in Felix’ lair— felt the threat of half a dozen guns ready to be drawn, electrifying him, making the hair stand up on the back of his neck, and his face turned to stone. An unbelievable calmness took hold of him and, with his eyes fixed on Vincent, unzipped his fly with steady hands.  
Vincent’s gaze had been on him, watching his expression, waiting for the slip that didn’t come. Max just went with it, and more. A moment ago, Vincent had been sure that Max had zero experience with this scenario, now he seemed to fit right in, as if he always got his cock sucked in between two drinks. This display of confidence was unexpected and all the more compelling. Vincent caught himself not merely observing his face, but _scrutinizing_ it, and quickly focused his attention on what was in front of him.

Max’s fingers slipped under the waistband of his pants to push them down over his hips, and Vincent let his hands run up the sides of his legs to take it from here.

"No meddling. Just let me do my work."

This was a routine he was accustomed to, and he preferred to do things his way. Rather unceremoniously, he cupped the bulge in Max’ briefs before he pulled them down, slowly…and with a bit of anticipation, he noticed. It had been a while, probably.

Whatever, he was just in the mood for a quick fuck, nothing about it.

For some reason, Max felt that Vincent’s professionalism was getting in his way now. His movements were too quick, too sharp. Max took hold of his wrists, not strong enough to keep him from doing anything, but with just enough force to stop him for a moment.

"You won’t get me anywhere like that."

His voice was impassive.

His hands still didn’t tremble.

Good.

A bit taken aback, Vincent gave him a glance. So, this guy actually had standards? Criticism didn’t sit well with Vincent, especially not before he had even really started.

He made a dismissive sound. “Okay, Max, what does get you off then, hm?” His thumbs were circling the skin, brushing the dark hair. “You want it slow?” He freed his hands without much resistance, and let his fingers run over Max’ half-hard cock, teasingly, slowly. Agonizingly slow. For /him/. “You want the whole cocktease shtick?”

He had no patience for this.

"Cut the crap and let me get this done." One hand slid down to press against his balls, the other closed around him, stroking him harder. His mouth brushed over the tip as he added, "Complain later", before he wrapped his lips around him. The wound on his lip burnt sharply as he went down on him, and Vincent made a soft groan. Not too bad. His hands had shifted, and grip on Max’s hip maybe a bit too strong, but he was both annoyed and horny, adamant on succeeding and even more adamant to suck him hard and bring him to his knees.

It took all of what little restraint Max had left to keep his legs from giving in. Quick and sharp or not, Vincent knew what he was doing. With his right underarm and forehead pressed against the wall tiles, his left hand unconsciously digging into the surprisingly thick grey hair at the back of Vincent’s head, Max failed to suppress a throaty groan.

It was only now that he realized he had his eyes squeezed shut. Vincent didn’t grant him any time to recover, and he had to bite his lower lip to suppress the noises that threatened to escape. He slowly opened his eyes to a sight to behold. Focused as always, but with undeniable pleasure, Vincent was at work, but Max could only watch him for so long until without even so much as hesitating, he swallowed and took him in whole.

With his knees and thighs shaking, Max’ lower lip escaped his teeth as his breathless, open moans filled the neon-lit room.

It spurred Vincent on— the pull on his hair and the jerking hips, signs of growing desperation. Rock hard now, slick with saliva and precome, Vincent could work Max as fast as he wanted to. And he didn’t need to hear the— now very audible— gasps to know that this was some very decent deep throating. Not that he minded the groans when he swallowed him whole, he welcomed the weight of the cock in his mouth, his tongue pressing flatly against it. Every loud noise that escaped Max was very much satisfying, and Vincent, who had tasted blood, went in for the kill.  
He pushed forward until his nose was brushing the curls of black hair, his fingers digging into the skin of Max’s legs, right under his ass. He felt Max moving, pushing in involuntary at first, but now more desperately, to the back of his throat. Good. Vincent gave a deliberate groan. 

Max felt his control fade as he edged closer and closer in a matter of seconds under Vincent’s grip. If Max had found any words to voice his thoughts, he would have begged, and as he heard and felt Vincent’s voice vibrate through him, his mind went blank and he collapsed against the wall, only just keeping himself up enough not to fall down on the man beneath him.

Pressed to the cold tiles with his whole right side, his head lolling forward, he didn’t even try to catch his rapid breath, still not completely devoid of his husky voice. The hand at the back of Vincent’s head still loosely closed around a few strands of grey hair, moving with Max’ heaving chest in a near caress.

Trapped between the wall and Max’s body, in front and above him, Vincent allowed himself take a deep breath, his head resting against Max’s thigh and Max’s hand holding him in place. His throat was burning slightly with every breath, and he savoured that feeling. It had become rather hot in his barely opened shirt, but he couldn’t be bothered to unbutton it. He licked his lips, taste still heavy on his tongue, and listening to the laboured, raw breaths above him.

As his hand brushed over his leg, between his thighs, to apply some very needed pressure, he made a low sound. He’d been so focused, he had hardly notice how close he was. The fingers brushing his scalp were distracting, but he didn’t let this put him off and he palmed himself harder through the fabric of his trousers, before he quickly opened the zipper and let his hand slip in his pants. He groaned at the coldness of his own fingers.

Through his hazy mind, it took Max a moment until he could discern what exactly was going on beneath him. Breath still heavy, he propped himself up a bit to have a better look at Vincent.

Something about the image of the older man kneeling on the floor, sweat glistening on his forehead, nothing but voiceless pants and hurried movements, one hand busy working his erection, the other clasping the fabric of his trousers, made his stomach tingle. Before he knew it, he was beside him, but as he reached around Vincent’s back to steady him, a sharp jerk of the other’s elbow and a piercing glance fended him off.

"Are you serious?", Max murmured.

"Yes", Vincent snapped back, his voice hoarse from the exertion. To make his point crystal clear, he put it in very simple words, hoping Max would get the picture and leave him, "Don’t. Touch me." was really not what he needed right now. He was so close, if Max didn’t insist on ruining it by interfering. It was distracting. He couldn’t stand it, but he didn’t have to explain himself, and he wouldn’t. When Max didn’t move, Vincent sighed, on the edge of frustration, "Look, if you really want it so badly, you can stay right there. But keep your hands to yourself."

Incredulous, Max got back on his shaky legs and finally pulled up his pants again. His head was still spinning a little. The scenery in front of him confused him. Hastily, if not violently, Vincent was jerking himself off, his face now strained and his eyes pressed shut. It didn’t look like he was pleasuring himself, as much as if he was dealing with an inevitable affliction. Max did as he was told and kept his distance, but he was not sure what it was that choked him. Was it arousal, a very different arousal from what he’d felt a minute ago, or…

Vincent came, finally, with a strangled noise that had little to do with pleasure. So much for ruining the moment, Max thought. Without giving Max another glance he finished off, zipped up and got on his feet again, his hand on the wall for support. Then he straightened his back, washed his hands and his eyes met Max’ in the mirror. “What is it with you, Max? You just got sucked off, and you stand there making that long face of yours.” He quickly dried his hands and grabbed his jacket. “I’d say there’s no pleasing you, but I know that better.”

Max’ lips thinned in annoyance. For a moment he wanted to ask what exactly had been going on there, but he had gotten good at guessing what Vincent’s issues were. “Don’t you think you’re taking this whole… control thing a little too far?”, he asked with a barely concealed scoff.

Instead of answering, Vincent put the jacket on, tugged it into place and stepped right in front of Max, a bit too close for comfort. “What’s with you, getting all pissy with me because I didn’t let you pat me”, he said, tone dismissive. “You seem a bit at loss as to what’s going on here, so let me tell you it’s very simple. Let’s say I did you a favour. Be happy. All of this, it doesn’t mean anything.”

With that, he reached out and adjusted Max’ rather rumpled shirt.

"So, don’t get bent out of shape.”


End file.
